Snippets and Snapshots
by Chirugal
Summary: A series of unrelated Gibbs/Abby shorts. Snippets and snapshots of a relationship so deep and complex that it often defies description. Fluff, angst, friendship, UST - you'll find them all here.
1. Solo at Midnight, rated R

**Title**: Solo at Midnight  
**Rating**: R  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: The concepts of 'midnight' and 'Gibbs' are linked in her mind, now.

**Author's Note**: Snippet written for the Drabble Game thread on the new Gabby forum, with the prompt 'midnight', which was given to me by Jo.R/driftingatdusk. And for those who want to join us, the forum is at http (://) gabbyfans (dot) freeforums (dot) org. :) Not just fic - discussions and screencaps and speculation and squeeing, too!

* * *

She watches the digital readout on her alarm clock tick over; from 23:59 to 00:00.

_Midnight again, alone in my bed_. She's attempting to get a decent night's sleep so she can try to cut down on Caf-Pow!, and failing miserably.

Sighing, she turns her back on the clock and stares into the darkness, her mind returning to the man she's attempting to do this for, for the third night in a row. _Too much of this stuff is bad for you, Abbs. You know it._ With all the coffee he drinks, she could have laughed him out of her lab, but he's Gibbs, and for some reason, she's actually trying this.

_As if I don't already know the reason why._

The concepts of 'midnight' and 'Gibbs' are linked in her mind, now. And like yesterday, and the night before it, she can't help but slip a hand down between her legs, teasing herself with the memories of his gaze, his scent, the slightly rough timbre to his voice…

By 00:20, she's breathless, flushed and deeply satisfied, but only a little sleepier. She curls around her pillow with a wordless mumble as her pulse slows, and her breathing become smooth and even once more.

There's nothing she can do to shut off her busy imagination, though. It's going to be a long night.

_END._


	2. Searching

**Title**: Searching  
**Rating**: G  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: What Gibbs has lost, Abby finds.

**Author's Note**: Snippet written for the Drabble Game thread on the new Gabby forum, with the prompt 'pencil', which was given to me by Lesa. And for those who want to join us, the forum is at http (://) gabbyfans (dot) freeforums (dot) org. :)

* * *

"Hey, Gibbs!"

He smiles at the sawdust-strewn floor, not bothering to look up as footsteps clatter down his basement steps. He hadn't expected company tonight, and he's oddly glad it's Abby. "Thought you were at a club night," he says, without rising from his crouch.

"Nah... people cancelled; I would have been a third wheel. Or a fifth wheel. What are you doing?"

"Dropped a pencil, and now I can't find it."

The next thing he knows, Abby's dropped into a crouch beside him, holding out a cup of coffee. "You need to refuel. And wear your glasses more often." She plucks his pencil up from behind a block of scrap wood and hands it to him with a grin.

He kisses her cheek gently, taking the coffee from her and then getting to his feet. "Don't know what I'd do without you."

_END._


	3. Abstract

**Title**: Abstract  
**Rating**: G  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Abby puts the finishing touches to her redecorated lab - with a little help.

**Author's Note**: Snippet written for the Drabble Game thread on the new Gabby forum, with the prompt 'abstract', which was given to me by Bethane713. And for those who want to join us, the forum is at http (://) gabbyfans (dot) freeforums (dot) org. :)

* * *

When he walks in, she's balancing on her wheeled desk chair, a hammer in her hand and a picture hook sticking out of the newly painted blue wall. "You okay?"

"Yeah," she answers, though she seems far from certain. "I got up here okay, but now I'm scared to move."

Gibbs puts his hands on the back of the chair, steadying it, and she climbs down with a sigh of relief, using his shoulder as a support. "Thanks. That coulda been ugly."

"Shoulda called me," he says, watching her pick up the abstract artwork leaning against the cabinet and carefully hang it from the picture hook.

"Next time, I will," Abby promises, stepping back to admire her handiwork. "Do you like it? It's shattered vertebrae after a shotgun blast."

Gibbs moves forward, straightening the slightly crooked picture without bothering to formulate a critique. "What do you got for me?"

"Not an abstract fan, huh?" she asks, suppressing a grin and moving past him to her computer. "Okay, so the fingerprints..."

_END._


	4. Sugar Lips

**Title**: Sugar Lips  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Gibbs questions Abby's concept of the word 'pleasure'.

**Author's Note**: Snippet written for the Drabble Game thread on the new Gabby forum, with the prompt 'lick', which was given to me by ReplicantAngel. And for those who want to join us, the forum is at http (://) gabbyfans (dot) freeforums (dot) org. :)

* * *

Abby has a pile of cold case reports in front of her, and a lollipop stuck in her mouth, when Gibbs returns home from the Navy Yard. She's curled up on his couch - _their_ couch, he reminds himself, still unused to their new living arrangement - and he sits beside her, tugging the pages out of her grasp. "Take a break. This is supposed to be your day off."

Abby surrenders her reading material without a fight, smiling up at him. "It's not work, it's pleasure reading. Some of this stuff is totally fascinating."

"You and I have very different interpretations of the word 'pleasure', Abbs."

Instantly, mischief shines in her eyes, and she gives her lollipop a casual lick, flicking her tongue against it slightly. "I don't know about that, Agent Gibbs..."

He takes the candy from her grasp, reaching out blindly to drop it into her empty coffee cup with one hand while he kisses her languidly. For the next hour, she sets about convincing him otherwise.

_END._


	5. Sacred

**Title**: Sacred  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Some things should never be used as murder weapons.

**Author's Note**: Snippet written for the Drabble Game thread on the new Gabby forum, with the prompt 'honey', which was given to me by hadapurpura. And for those who want to join us, the forum is at http (://) gabbyfans (dot) freeforums (dot) org. :)

* * *

Abby picked up the evidence bag and frowned at the unassuming jar of honey within. "You're saying someone actually tried to poison their husband using honey?"

"That's what you gotta tell me, Abbs," Gibbs responded, signing the chain of evidence form.

"I know. But... honey. It's sweet and innocent and loved by children and, and... cartoon bears!" She sighed. "Is nothing sacred any more?"

"A few things." Smiling inwardly, Gibbs leaned in to kiss her cheek. "Still on for tomorrow?"

"Are you kidding?" Abby set down the evidence bag and began to pull on a pair of latex gloves. "Miss my pre-birthday dinner with you? Okay, some things _are_ sacred."

_END._


	6. Atonement

**Title**: Raw  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**:_ Dead Man Talking_, season one.  
**Summary**: This is atonement.

**Author's Note**: Snippet written for the Drabble Game thread on the new Gabby forum, with the prompt 'lotion', which was given to me by Zabby. And for those who want to join us, the forum is at http (colon slash slash) gabbyfans (dot) freeforums (dot) org. :)

* * *

His catharsis is woodwork; no matter how much is on his mind, sawing and sanding and varnishing seem to help. The pastime takes its toll on his hands, though. Along with the callus on his trigger finger, there are several rough spots on his fingers, palms and the heels of his hands.

In times of stress, he works until the abused skin cracks, even bleeds. The constant exposure to friction and sawdust strips the moisture away, replacing it with hot, raw pain that he works through with gritted teeth.

The night after Special Agent Christopher Pacci's death, he sands down the skeleton of the boat for hours longer than he usually would, ignoring his body's commands to stop. The pain feels just; he turned away the other agent when he should have listened, telling him that he was too busy. If he hadn't, maybe Chris would still be alive. This is atonement.

"Hey." Abby's voice is unexpected, and he sets down the sanding block almost guiltily, setting his defences back in place. "I wasn't sure if you'd still be awake."

He allows her the lie, gesturing for her to join him and sits by the boat. "You okay?"

She shrugs, crossing the floor to lean against the wooden frame. "As much as any of us are, I guess." Her gaze drops to his reddened hands, and she winces. "Ouch. Gibbs, you shouldn't do that to your skin. You know, when your body tells you something hurts, you're supposed to listen."

"Uh-huh," he says, in a voice that makes it clear that the subject is off the table.

Abby rummages in her purse and pulls out a bottle, then sits beside him, holding out her hand for one of his. He stares her out; she returns it in kind, narrowing her eyes a little. "I'm not leaving until you let me do this."

Reluctantly, he places his hand in hers, the cool, soft touch almost soothing against his sore flesh. Abby turns it palm up, and squeezes vanilla-scented lotion into the dip in the centre. Then, with gentle thumbs, she begins to massage it into his hand, moisturising the parchment-dry skin without aggravating it too much. He watches her expression, knowing she's completely focused on her task, and wonders what her touch would feel like elsewhere on his body.

She turns over his hand, transferring excess lotion to the back of it, and laces her fingers through his, rubbing the cream into the skin between them. The touch is intimate, personal, yet comforting at the same time; more the actions of a lover than a friend or co-worker.

Abby doesn't look up, or say anything, as she repeats the treatment on the other hand. As Gibbs' skin soaks up the liquid contained within the lotion, his mind soaks up the attention, her body language, the gentle caresses that are so inappropriate for their relationship, yet welcomed with an intensity he can't deny.

When she laces her fingers through the second hand, he tightens his grip, and she blinks up at him, her face only a couple of inches from his. She takes a breath to speak; he silences the words with a kiss.

The bottle of lotion falls to the ground as he pulls her into his arms, but neither Gibbs nor Abby pay it any heed.

_END._


	7. Come to Bed

**Title**: Come to Bed  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: When Abby can't sleep and Gibbs finds the guest bedroom empty, he comes to find her...

**Author's Note**: Snippet written for Week 1 of the Gabby Hiatus Creative Drive on the forum. It's a photo manip of Abby and shirtless!Gibbs, with these words added. Want to see? The forum is at http (colon slash slash) gabbyfans (dot) freeforums (dot) org, and the manip is in the fanart section, under Amy's Graphical Flukes. :)

* * *

Abby can't sleep, so she spends a while going over the notes for her latest forensic journal article in Gibbs' living room.

When she hears footsteps on the stairs, and he appears, shirtless, in the doorway, every nerve ending in her body tingles. She can't help the way her eyes sweep over his half-naked body, and he notices.

Of course he does. He's Gibbs.

What she doesn't expect is for him to lean over the desk and give her the exact same look in return. Or that he'll speak the words she longs to hear, his gaze intent on her face.

"Come to bed, Abbs."

_END._


	8. Fix

**Title**: Fix  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Written for Week 2 of the Gabby Hiatus Creative Drive on the forum.

* * *

She gets twitchy if she doesn't get her fix. Working alone in the lab all day is great in some ways, but she tends to get wrapped up in her work, and if she's not careful, she forgets to eat and drink.

When Gibbs arrives in her lab, carrying a coffee in one hand and a Caf-Pow! in the other, something within her eases. Taking the soda from him and sipping from the straw, she sighs happily and gets to work, laying out the results for him with renewed energy.

She's still twitchy, though, and that makes her babble. He probably blames it on the caffeine, but the truth is, she can't relax until she has what she needs.

"Abby." He halts her mid-word, a small smile playing about his lips, and she blinks up at him, waiting for his next words. "DNA match."

"Right," she agrees, focusing on the task at hand, making sure that he knows everything she knows – which is probably the problem half the time…

Gibbs nods, leans in close and kisses her cheek. "Good job."

He's already turning away, but it's enough. She relaxes, takes a sip of her drink and drifts on the high.

Too long without a Gibbs-approval fix, and she's useless. She guesses she's just lucky he chooses to show her he cares, even if sometimes she does have to wait a little while between doses.


	9. Alternatives to Coffee

**Title**: Alternatives To Coffee  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: None  
**Summary**: Written for whufan's prompt of 'tea' on the Gabby forum (you should know the link by now!).

* * *

"You know, it's not fair that I'm switching to No-Caf-Pow!, and you're still drinking coffee."

I take another sip of my usual blend, shaking my head. "We've already had this conversation, Abbs. I'm not switching to decaf."

"Well, maybe not decaf," Abby says, draining the final dregs of her drink. "How about black tea?"

I snort. "What, am I Ducky now?"

"It's caffeinated, but it's full of antioxidants. Way healthier than coffee. Plus, I don't know how you haven't killed off every taste bud you have with that stuff you drink." Abby leans over to look into my coffee cup, and I set it aside, tilting up her chin with a finger.

"I still taste the things that matter," I tell her, and prove my point with a lingering kiss, ignoring the cloying sweetness of her drink and relishing the unique Abby flavour beneath.

When we break for air, she blinks up at me with a lazy smile. "What were we talking about?"

"Getting an early night."

She giggles, not fooled for a second but willing to go along with it. "You know, you'd sleep easier if you switched to decaf."

"Not planning on sleeping, Abbs."


	10. Losing Count

**Title**: Losing Count  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: _Forced Entry_, season two  
**Summary**: Some milestones are meant to be celebrated.

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt '100' on the Gabby forum, as given to me by Chedders. :)

* * *

"Good job, Abbs." He leans in and kisses her cheek, and she catches her breath, her cheek shifting under his lips in a wide smile. "What?"

She gives a little, excited bounce as she turns that heart-stopping smile on him. "A hundred, Gibbs! We got to _one hundred_!"

He's lost. "Huh?"

"Cheek kisses!" she exults, her enthusiasm undiminished. "I started counting at one, way back when I went undercover at the Scarlet Secret website. I can't believe we made it into triple figures this fast! I'm gonna start losing count soon."

It means so much to her, and his mind responds with a mixture of emotions he can't quite pin down: casual mischief blended with tender affection and a smouldering undercurrent of...

He doesn't consciously decide to lean in and kiss her cheek again; it just happens. "Make that a hundred and one."

Abby blinks, her smiling face so close to his, and he can't stop there. Slipping a hand to the side of her neck, covering the spiderweb tattoo, he brushes his lips over her cheekbone for a third time, then a fourth; a fifth; a sixth.

A tremor passes through her skin and her eyes fall closed, but she doesn't speak, just tilts her head a little further to allow him easier access to her cheek. He keeps kissing, his lips lingering for longer with each contact.

"Lost count yet?" he murmurs in her ear, between kisses.

"Round about the moment you started stroking my neck," she admits, her voice low and amused.

He hadn't even realised he was doing it, but he doesn't stop, running his thumb across the warm flesh and kissing her cheek again. "Too bad."

"I can start again," she tells him. "I'm a scientist - I have a great head for numbers."

He draws back a little and meets her eyes; lets the newly electrified, delicious tension between them sink in. Then, with a half-grin he can't suppress, he kisses her lips; feels her respond with a soft sigh of pleasure. She rests a hand over his heart, her fingers dragging lightly against his shirt, and follows his kiss with one of her own; he deepens it, pulling her closer than he ever has.

When the intensity becomes too much, they break off, breathing hard. Gibbs somehow manages to pick up the threads of their conversation where he left it. "You get how many kisses that was?"

She punches his shoulder lightly. "I said 'scientist', Gibbs. Not 'saint'. What happens when we get to a hundred of _those_ kisses?"

He steps away before he can decide to give her the entire hundred, right here and now, heading for the elevator before his resolve breaks. "Gonna have to wait and see."

_END._


	11. Lasting

**Title**: Lasting  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Summary**: Abby wonders what scares Gibbs.

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'scare' at the Gabby forum, as set for me by Chedders. This is set before season six of the show, while Mrs. Mallard was still living with Ducky.

* * *

"Gibbs? Do you have any phobias?" Abby is half-sitting, half-lying on the old, battered sofa she rescued from the local thrift store, in order to keep Gibbs company in the basement in comfort.

He looks up from the tools laid out on his workbench with a wry half-smile. "Ex-wives. Golf clubs. Lawyers. Sexual harassment seminars. Ducky's mom after too much sherry."

Abby grins, rolling her eyes. "Notice how all of those are kinda connected?" After a moment's pause, she waves her book at him. "No, seriously. Irrational fears of things that other people might not be scared of."

"Ex-wives. Golf clubs. Lawyers. Sexual harassment seminars. Ducky's mom."

"Giiiibs!" she protests.

He comes to sit beside her, displacing the book on phobias she's been reading. She snuggles close, resting her head on his shoulder. Dropping a kiss on the top of her head, he tells her, "Losing my team. Losing you."

Her hand tightens on his arm, and she tilts her head up to look at him. "Losing me, or _losing_ me?"

"Both."

"You won't. We've been together longer than you and Stephanie... longer than you and Diane..."

"Longer than me and Alice, too," he points out, naming his first ex-wife.

"Hmm. I wasn't sure how long that was." Her fingers trace an idle pattern up and down his arm, and he watches them move, wondering how such a simple touch can have such a powerful effect on him.

"Just over three years."

Abby doesn't ask how long his relationship with Shannon lasted; she already knows that it was longer than the five years they've been together. He met her in '76, married her in '82 and lost her in '91; he hasn't even known Abby for as long as he was married to Shannon.

It doesn't matter. The two most lasting relationships of his life are many years apart, but Abby is as vital to his existence now as Shannon was then. And to lose her, whether it's as a result of death or separation, is something he can't bear to contemplate.

"So, technophobia aside, no really weird things like koumpounophobia, huh?" He gives her a blank look, and she elaborates, "Fear of buttons."

He thinks about it, then shakes his head slowly. "Nope."

"And you don't really have a fear of golf clubs, right? I mean, unless they're being wielded by scorned redheads?" He laughs softly at the aptness of her description, and she rests her head on his shoulder again. "Just checking."

_END._


	12. Early Morning Nerves

**Title**: Early Morning Nerves  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: Not really.  
**Summary**: Gibbs and Abby prepare to tell Jackson Gibbs about their relationship...

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'apple' on the Gabby forum, as given to me by Chedders. :)

* * *

Stillwater is always quiet and sleepy on a Sunday morning. Gibbs wakes in his boyhood bedroom just after dawn, stretching out his limbs and noticing immediately that Abby is missing. Wondering whether she's sneaked back to the spare room, where Jackson Gibbs thinks she's spent the night, he rises, pulls on a pair of jeans and goes in search of her.

The spare room is deserted, though the bedcovers are in convincingly slept-in disarray. Downstairs, the store is deserted at this time of day; Jackson is still asleep. Sunday morning sleep-ins are the man's number one guilty pleasure, and one that Gibbs often appreciated when he was growing up.

Grabbing a couple of apples from the fruit section, he heads out onto the back porch, where Abby is curled up in a shady corner with her laptop. She glances up as he approaches, smiling with a warmth she reserves only for him. "Morning."

"Morning." He hands her an apple and sits beside her, biting into his. "Couldn't sleep?"

"I'm a little nervous," she admits. "Not that Jack is scary, just... you know. Think he's gonna want to know what my intentions are toward his son?"

"What _are_ your intentions, Abbs?"

Her expression becomes wickedness personified, and then a picture of perfect innocence. "Nothing you won't like."

He kisses her, tasting the apple juice on her lips, and murmurs, "More likely, he'll want to know what my intentions are toward_ you_."

"You should tell _me_ that first. In detail. _Lots_ of detail... How long till your dad wakes up?"

"A while..."

_END._


	13. Good Day, Sir Gibbs

**Title**: Good Day, Sir Gibbs  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Summary**: Abby's Renaissance Faire costume makes an impression on Gibbs…

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'RenFaire' for the Gabby Drabble thread at the forum, as given to me by thehappyfangirl.

* * *

"Abbs?"

The surprise in Gibbs' voice is immediately gratifying, and I grin, turning to face him with a deep curtsey. "Good day, Sir Gibbs..."

Amused, he takes in my period costume. My dress is made up of a tightly-laced bodice attached to a floor-length, flowing skirt. "Halloween come early this year?"

"Nope."

"You lost a bet with the Elflord again?"

"Nope."

He stares at me a second longer, mulling over possible explanations, before giving up. "Okay, what?"

"I'm going to a Renaissance Faire after work! Hog roasts, mead, games and dancing... what's not to love?"

His expression hardly changes, but I didn't expect it to. Gibbs at a RenFaire is something I doubt I'll ever see. Then again, you never know if you don't ask. "Wanna be my date?"

"Not if I have to dress like you," he tells me, leaning in to kiss my cheek to soften the blow. "What do you got for me?"

Sighing, I tell him, "You know, I wouldn't make you wear the dress... Just a loose linen shirt, maybe some breeches, a hat with a feather..."

He makes a few swift motions with his hands, not bothering to speak, and I gasp in feigned outrage. "Why, Sir Gibbs! That's no way to address a lady!"

"I'll bear that in mind the next time I'm talking to one," he says wryly.

I punch him in the arm, my voice slipping into twenty-first century pique. Mostly. "You callin' me a doxie, Marine?"

"I don't even know what that _is_," he points out. "Are you done?"

"I guess..." Giving up, I turn back to my results and tell him things that no man or woman of the Renaissance would have known. When I glance over at him, his eyes have wandered back to my costume.

"Improper thoughts, good sir? Shame on you..."

He steps in close, his hands resting on either side of my cinched waist. "Don't know how you can breathe in something this tight."

"I like being a little constricted." It's harder to breathe with his hands on me than it is when I'm wearing the tightest corset I own. "Sure you won't reconsider coming with me?"

"Positive." He steps away, casting a final glance at me that's almost mischievous. "But I might visit you later to help you get out of the outfit."

All I can do is watch him walk away, struck speechless until he's almost out of the room. Then I call after him, "My father, the king, will be most displeased if you make me just another of your conquests, sir knight."

Looking over his shoulder, the knight in question says, "If you need me to court you some more to convince you my intentions are honourable, just say so."

His barely-patient drawl is completely incongruous to the chivalrous words, breaking the tension. Grinning, I sweep into another curtsey. "I'll await you in my living quarters come midnight, good sir."

With a fleeting smile, my silver-haired knight steps out of view.

_END._


	14. Fit Me

**Title**: Fit Me  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: Not really.  
**Summary**: Gibbs doesn't fit the conventional family roles. Not by a long shot.

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'family' for the Gabby Drabble thread, as given to me by AngelQueen.

* * *

"This is a traumatic time, Gibbs. I need my family around me." Abby paces her inner lab, casting fretful glances over her shoulder at the technician who's taking her mass spectrometer apart, piece by piece.

"You really think of us as family?" Gibbs asks, sitting on the edge of her desk.

Abby spins to face him, incredulous. "You even have to ask me that?"

He shrugs, hiding his emotions beneath his usual mask of composure while his heart sinks a little lower. His feelings toward Abby aren't anywhere near familial; haven't been for a while. But she can never know that, not when she thinks of him as... what? A father? An uncle?

Abby continues, smiling a little. "Ducky's practically my dad. Not that I don't love _my_ dad. But he's so far away... Ducky's my DC dad."

Weird Uncle Jethro, then. Wasn't that what DiNozzo had dubbed him at one point?

"Tony, Palmer and Ziva are totally my brothers and sister. And McGee... is some sort of distant cousin, or that would make the time we dated really, _really_ wrong."

Gibbs waits for her to vocalise the neat little box that she compartmentalises their relationship within, watching the tech. When she speaks, though, her voice is soft. "And you..."

He looks her over carefully, sensing uncertainty where he hadn't expected any.

"You're closer. You don't fit the conventional roles." She walks away, toward the evidence bag that contains the gun they found at the scene of the probable murder-suicide they're investigating.

A spike of adrenaline hits his blood, and he's following her before he realises it. "Abby."

She turns reluctantly, and he steps in close. "Fit me."

Miserably, as if expecting him to turn on her, she whispers, "Boyfriend. Partner. Lover. I'm sorry, Gibbs. You can go back to work."

She takes one step backward before he catches her, pressing his lips to hers without a second's thought. She gasps, as if he's just granted her permission to breathe, and throws her arms around his neck, her lips hungry and seductive all at once.

When they break, she stares at him in wonder. "I thought you thought of me as a daughter."

He shrugs. "Thought you thought of me as a father."

She grins. "You were wrong."

"So were you."

"Hmm."

"Hmm." He waits her out, amused, his pulse pounding out a rhythm of relief as well as lust.

"We should have a naughty night in sometime," Abby says mischievously.

"Tonight work for you?"

She glances over her shoulder, toward her outer lab. "If the Major pulls through with no complications, I'm all yours."

_END._


	15. Up Close and Personal

**Title**: Up Close and Personal  
**Rating**: PG -13  
**Spoilers**: Not really.  
**Summary**: The secret of a good bluff is not to bluff... unless you're Abby. Then, the secret of a good bluff is not to make too much eye contact... or to drink too much Caf-Pow!.

**Author's Note**: Written for the Gabby Tuesday prompt 'personal'. And Abby's a liiiiiittle OOC, but my excuse is that I'm ill today. XD

* * *

"Anything you wanna share, Abby?"

Oops… I knew I was being too obvious.

He looks so amazingly hot tonight; not that he doesn't all the time, but tonight he's just… whoa. I can't even describe it. Maybe it's cause I've had, like, seven Caf-Pow!s in four hours, but I haven't been able to take my eyes off him since he walked in. And he's a trained investigator, so he knows, of course he does! Well, he doesn't _know_, cause how could he? But he's noticed that something has me on edge. I just hope he thinks it's the caffeine.

What did he once say? The secret to a good bluff is not to bluff? Here goes…

Putting my hands on his shoulders and staring into his eyes, I grin and tell him melodramatically, "Gibbs, I can't keep this inside any longer… I want you, I need you, but I can't tell you because it would ruin this beautiful friendship that we have!"

I expect him to smile, shake his head and shrug out of my grip, changing the subject. The way he always does. But instead, he holds my gaze for a couple of seconds, as if confirming something. Then his hands grip my hips, pulling my body in line with his, and he kisses me.

All I can do is gasp as I try to think past the initial rush of desire. I can't believe… why? How? I'm too shocked to do anything but stand there, and as he draws back I kick myself for not grabbing the back of his head and kissing him back.

"I…"

Amused, he puts a finger over my lips, silencing me before I can begin to babble. "When you try to make me think you're bluffing, you make too much eye contact, Abbs."

I do? Oops. Trust Gibbs to pick up on something about me that _I_ didn't even know. I should be speaking, but the only thing I can think of to say is, "Oh."

But I don't have to think, because his lips come down on mine again, and this time my body moves of its own accord, my arms looping around his neck as I show him exactly how much I want this. His arms tighten around me and I give a tiny cry at the rough heat in his kiss – he wants me, right now, and screw the fact that we're at work.

His cell rings just as his hands start to wander, and we draw apart reluctantly so he can answer. "What, DiNozzo?"

I'm standing so close that I can hear every word of Tony's reply. "Lieutenant Schneider's wife just walked in. She wants to speak to you."

"On my way." Gibbs hangs up with a sigh, then kisses my forehead softly. "Gotta go, Abbs."

"Wanna get up close and personal later?" I ask him, already knowing the answer.

He gives the rare smile that makes my heart stutter, stepping away from me. "Count on it."

_END._


	16. Moonbathing

**Title**: Moonbathing  
**Rating**: G  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Summary**: Abby avoids the sun. The moonlight is a different matter.

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'moonlight', as given to me by Mindy at the Gabby forum.

* * *

She hides from the sun. It's always been that way, and he hasn't questioned it for years. Abby is Abby, and when she's outside, her black lace parasol is ever-present.

The moonlight is a different matter.

Walking back from the coffee shop one night, he glances over to the decorative lawn on the other side of the street. Making out a figure lying motionless, he lays a hand on his weapon and approaches as soundlessly as he can, assuming the worst.

As he gets closer, he takes in a pair of huge boots and a tiny skirt, and recognition kicks him in the stomach. "Abby?"

"Oh, hey, Gibbs!" She raises herself up on her elbows and smiles at him, and he lets go of the breath he's been holding.

"What the hell are you doing out here alone?" he demands, his voice harsh with relief.

"Moonbathing." She pats the grass next to her. "Wanna join me?"

He yanks her to her feet, scowling. "You're coming back inside, Abbs. You wanna lie out and look at the moon, you can do it in my backyard."

"Wow, you're cranky today," she complains, smoothing down her skirt and following him reluctantly.

"People lying alone in the middle of parks at midnight don't usually get up again," he tells her, without slowing his pace.

She makes the connection, then, and wisely stays silent until they're in the elevator, on the way up to the bullpen. "Sorry, Gibbs. I didn't mean to scare you."

He accepts her hug with a sigh, finding comfort in the warmth of her living, breathing body. "I mean it, Abbs. You wanna lie outside at night, do it somewhere safer."

With a mock salute that's still with the wrong hand, she agrees, "Yes, sir!"

"Abbs..."

"Sorry, ma'am."

_END._


	17. Murdered Marines and Yard Sale Junk

**Title**: Murdered Marines and Yard Sale Junk  
**Rating**: G  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Summary**: A strange case leads to a challenge.

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'goggle', as given to me by Mindy at the Gabby forum. Random fic, but it was a hard prompt!

* * *

"What do you got for me, Abbs?"

She sorts through the pile of evidence she's already looked through, picking up items in turn as she lists them. "Swimming goggles. A teddy bear. A copy of _Treasure Island_ with half the pages missing. A bracelet with a broken clasp." Sighing, she looks up at Gibbs. "I feel like I'm at a yard sale."

Amused, he holds up the Caf-Pow! in his hand. "What do you got that I can use?"

"There were a couple of fingerprints on the goggles... I'm running them through AFIS now. And I'm pulling fibres off the bear now." She surveys the junk with a frown. "It's just weird. I mean, why was our murdered Marine carrying a bag of junk around with him?"

Before he can respond, she finds the title page of _Treasure Island_ and holds it out to him. "There's a note written here. 'For Laura, from Uncle Steve.' But our Marine's name is Ben. It's a puzzle, Gibbs."

"You'll solve it," he says, kissing her furrowed brow and handing over the Caf-Pow!. "Or I will."

"Winner buys the loser dinner?" she challenges.

"Better get back to work, then," he tells her, heading for the door. "I'm getting hungry."

_END._


	18. Itsy Bitsy

**Title**: Itsy Bitsy  
**Rating**: PG-13  
**Spoilers**: None.  
**Summary**: Gibbs and Abby discuss some evidence.

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'polka dot', as given to me by Maria at the Gabby forum.

* * *

Abby looks up with a smile as Gibbs walks into her lab. "Gibbs! What do you think of the music? Kinda thematic, huh?"

He hands her a Caf-Pow! and listens, making out the lyrics after a couple of seconds.

_**It was an itsy bitsy, teeny weeny yellow polka dot bikini  
That she wore for the first time today...**_

"Why?" he asks, not perceiving a connection.

Abby holds up an evidence bag; inside is one of the smallest bikinis he's ever seen – yellow, mostly string, with black polka dots spotting the fabric. "This was in the murder victim's bag. Guess she was planning on taking a swim at some point."

He raises an eyebrow. "And getting arrested for indecent exposure."

Abby looks at the bikini thoughtfully. "I think it'd cover everything that matters. Well, from the front, anyway."

"Care to demonstrate?" he teases, and she steps closer to him with an intrigued smile.

"If it wasn't evidence, I totally would. I have some underwear that's just about this size, though, if you feel like coming over later..."

Remembering past encounters, and imagining this new one she's laying out in front of him, he nods with a slow grin. "Could handle that. Now, what do you got?"

"Alluring promises aren't enough for you?"

"The sooner you tell me, the sooner we crack the case and go home..."

"Good point. Okay, so the blood..."

_END._


	19. Autumn

**Title**: Autumn**  
Rating**: G**  
Spoilers**: None**  
Summary**: Fall is creeping in, but it's not just leaves that are falling…

**Author's Note**: Jo suggested 'fall/autumn' as a prompt to cure my writer's block. I managed to write something, but don't know if that will last! Thanks for the inspiration, Jo. :)

* * *

"Happy autumn, Gibbs!"

He takes the russet-coloured leaf Abby holds out, looking from it to the giant bouquet of similarly-hued leaves on her desk. "Florist run out of flowers?"

"Nope. I just thought that since dying leaves look better than dying flowers, and there were a million of them scattered over my car this morning, that I'd bring them in."

He twirls the stem between his thumb and forefinger, watching her call up a result on her screen. Before he can speak, she adds, "Isn't 'autumn' a great word? So much prettier than 'fall'."

She and Ducky have obviously been dissecting the differences between their cultures again. He nods at the screen, diverting her attention to something a little more productive. "What do you got?"

A couple of minutes later, he has a new suspect, a new piece of his puzzle to apply to the bigger picture… and the strong urge to tuck the leaf Abby gave him into her hair. If there's ever an opportunity to touch her, he can never resist taking it.

With careful fingers, he threads the leaf's stem into her hair, snagging it into her hair tie. Abby becomes perfectly still, a smile playing about her lips as she submits to his gentle touches, and gazes up at him as he finishes.

Another of Ducky's British idioms flits through his mind. _In for a penny, in for a pound…_

Letting his instinct take over, he leans forward and kisses her cheek, closer to her lips than what's really appropriate for a friend. Too late to correct it, now. "Good work, Abbs."

She touches her new hair ornament with a mock glare. "Hey! That was a gift!"

"You got more," he points out, gesturing to the vase full of leaves.

"True," she concedes, plucking a tawny leaf from the batch and tucking it into his button-hole. "Now _this_ is a gift. Which means you have to wear it. All day."

Eyeing the ridiculously large leaf, he asks, "Can I trade it in for a different kinda gift?"

"That depends on what you want." Her curious, forest-green eyes captivate him, and he can only think of one alternative.

He tilts up her chin with a finger, letting his gaze wander over her darkly made-up lips and watching comprehension dawn on her face. With a tiny nod, she closes her eyes and sways forward to meet his kiss, tearing the leaf out of his button-hole as their lips meet.

A few blissful moments later, he pulls back, amused by her tiny whimper of protest. "Gotta go to work, Abbs."

She nods, releasing him with slow reluctance. "Come back soon."

"Count on it," he tells her, and leaves the lab before his resolve crumbles like a dead leaf.

_END._


	20. Wrap Around My Heart

**Title**: Wrap Around My Heart**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Spoilers**: _Hiatus_ arc, season three.**  
Summary**: Abby puts her first aid training to good use.

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'band aid' at the Gabby forum.

* * *

"Damn it."

Hearing Gibbs' muttered curse, Abby turns to find him examining his bloody finger. "Ouch! What happened?"

"Sharp edge through the evidence bag," he says, gesturing to a rusty piece of metal and then instinctively raising his hand to his mouth.

Abby seizes his wrist, shaking her head. "Don't suck it! You might have metal shavings stuck in the wound. C'mere." Dragging him across the room, she turns on the faucet of her lab's basin and guides his hand under the stream of lukewarm water.

"Don't fuss, Abbs. It's only small."

In response, she shuts off the water, examining the wound for dirt particles and nodding satisfaction at the result. The blood is still flowing, and she grabs a couple of paper towels, folding them and pressing them down firmly against the wound.

When she looks up at him, he's studying her with a slight smile. "What?"

"Nothing... Doctor."

She loves it when they banter. "Hey, it's simple first aid! And you could get tetanus. When was the last time you had a shot?"

"After I got blown up."

That was just a year ago, and she relaxes, pulling back the paper towels to check his injury. The bleeding's stopped, but she takes an extra second to examine him before releasing his hand. Anything to be close to him...

"Think I'll live?" he asks wryly, and she grins, reaching up to a high shelf and pulling down a box of band aids with a skull-and-star design, plus a tube of antiseptic ointment.

"You will when I've finished up here." As she strips the covering off the adhesive, she hears him sigh her name, and shivers a little. _Only he can say it just like that._

Taking his hand again, she dangles the sticky strip from one finger and smoothes ointment over the cut, as gently as she can. Then she applies the band aid, wrapping it around his finger the way she wishes she could wrap his heart around hers.

She hears the rhythm of his breathing change, hitching in amusement, and she can't resist pressing her lips to the band aid in a lightning fast kiss. Then she steps back a couple of paces, away from the source of temptation. "All done."

He examines the design on the band aid, shaking his head. "Think it suits me?"

"What, you don't think my style looks good on you?" _Wait – am I flirting?_

"I know you'd look good on my arm, but I'm not so sure about this on my finger."

_Is _he _flirting with_ me_?_

"Is this the part where you start talking about how my clothes would look on your bedroom floor?" she teases, hoping she doesn't look as turned on as she feels.

"Think I'd be too busy to notice how your clothes looked," he growls, stepping in closer, and she tilts her head up instinctively for his kiss.

It sends quivers of arousal through her whole body, and she pulls back, scared to let herself fall. "Gibbs, are you in shock? Maybe you need to see Ducky."

"I'm just fine," he murmurs, and kisses her again.

Pressing herself tighter against his body, she decides against questioning him any further.

_END._


	21. GabbCollab repost, Goodies for Gibbs

**Title**: Goodies for Gibbs**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Spoilers**:_ Ice Queen_, the first of the two JAG season 8 episodes that served as a pilot for NCIS.**  
Summary**: It's the first time Gibbs has ever praised Abby this overtly, but it won't be the last…

**Author's Note**: This is a repost of my first tag for the Gabby Collaboration Project (see author 'GabbCollab' for details). For anyone who hasn't already seen our fic, here's a rundown of the concept: A few Gabby authors are setting out to tag every single NCIS episode so far. Our theory is that any episode could be the catalyst for Gibbs and Abby to begin a relationship. There will be a few exceptions, if the exchange that's in the episode is just too much like they're already in a relationship, but for the most part we're looking at a string of unconnected 'first time' fics.

Okay, on with Ice Queen's tag!

* * *

"Good job."

"Thanks, boss," Tony says, preening a little, and I suppress a grin. It took me a while to start to like him – I saw him as a replacement for Stan Burley, and it was a few months before that stopped hurting. But now I'm used to him, he kinda intrigues me. He's always flirting, always–

"I was talking to Abby."

Every thought about Tony flies out of the window, and I transfer my gaze to Gibbs, hardly able to believe what I'm hearing. Was that actual approval? Expressed in clear, concrete terms? From _Gibbs_?

Whoa. Tony who?

While said Special Agent grins, I slide my chair across the lab to my next piece of evidence, focusing on the job to cover up how flustered I feel. The first thing I noticed when NCIS hired me was that Leroy Jethro Gibbs is more attractive than any law enforcement officer has the right to be. But I squished that thought pretty damn fast when I realised how no-nonsense he is.

Well, squished it during working hours, anyway.

While Gibbs ponders the Moscow cell number written on the napkin I've drawn his attention to, Tony pushes me back to my computer. "I've got more goodies," I call to Gibbs, once he's done with Vivian.

Oops. That came out a little wrong. But it doesn't matter – no-nonsense Gibbs is too busy focusing on the plasma screen to notice that the goodies I'd like to offer him are a little more personal than a flight date.

Guess I'm better off flirting with Tony – at least I'll actually get somewhere.

* * *

"Got goodies for me now, Abbs?"

"Gibbs!" I press a hand to my pounding heart, glaring up at him. "You scared the hell out of me!"

With a slight smile, he leans against the nearby counter and watches me. "Hear you got a date with DiNozzo coming up."

That's the last thing I ever expected Gibbs to do – come down here to grill me about my love life. "Yeah."

"I ever tell you about rule twelve?"

Not specifically, but scuttlebutt travels. Gibbs' rule number twelve is 'never date a co-worker'. "You came down here to tell me not to date Tony? Gibbs, we're both consenting adults, and just cause you don't think it's a good idea for us to see each other, that doesn't mean-"

"If you're gonna break it, it should be with me."

Wait, what? Did he just say…?

His attention has never been focused on me this intensely before, and the possessive hunger I see in him renders me speechless for long seconds. "You're jealous?" I manage, finally.

He inclines his head a little in acknowledgement, and I get a sense of wry amusement from him, as if he's perfectly aware of the ridiculousness of the situation.

It puts us back on equal footing, and I tease, "Gonna tell me why you'd be a better choice than Tony?"

Gibbs walks toward me; he's a man completely confident in his own skin, and when there's just a breath between us, he tells me, "This is why."

_This_. So non-specific, and yet I know exactly what he means. The tension between us is electric; his scent is intoxicating, and everything seems safe and secure and wild and dangerous all at once…

"Gonna have to do better than that," I murmur to him, making sure he knows that even though I want him – even though he's my boss – that doesn't mean he gets to call all the shots.

"Oh, I will." He turns and walks away, glancing back over his shoulder as he reaches the doorway. "Pick you up at eight."

And then he's gone, and I'm left to stare at the doorway and wonder exactly what just happened.

The only thing I know for sure is that I'm grinning from ear to ear.

_END._


	22. Extremely Merry, rated R

**Title**: Extremely Merry**  
Rating**: T**  
Spoilers**: Tiny one for _Silent Night_.**  
Summary**: Abby's Christmas party quest is to see that Gibbs gets 'merry'. She doesn't count on getting the same way…

**Author's Note**: Written for the Gabby forum prompt 'egg nog'. And as a disclaimer, I don't drink, so this depiction of being drunk/hung over might be entirely off base. XD

* * *

The NCIS Christmas party: the one time of the year when agents and support staff alike are encouraged to get 'merry' and eat way too much party food. Abby makes it her mission to ensure that one Navy Yard employee per year gets _extremely _merry. Last year was Palmer's turn, and this year, she's turned her sights on Gibbs.

It's surprisingly easy to get him to drink. She just has to wait until he's distracted, in mid-conversation, and then slip another glass into his hand. After a while he realises what she's up to, but by then his inhibitions are lowered, his grouchy exterior is slipping, and his smile is just... wow.

At some point, there's a drinking competition. Egg nog, no less. Abby doesn't intend to join in, but then there's that Gibbs-smile again, and a challenge from Tony, and then she doesn't remember much after that.

A kiss. A taxi-ride. Flashes of silver hair seen up close; like, really close. Like, kissing-the-back-of-someone's-neck close. A bare chest.

And now the unmistakable symptoms of a hangover. "Ugh." There doesn't seem to be much point in trying to sum it up any better than that.

"Tell me about it," a rough male voice says, and Abby surges into a sitting position as soon as she realises there's someone in her bed.

The sheets fall away from her very naked body, and she gathers them up, pulling them half off Gibbs' _also_ naked body in her quest for modesty. If not for the hangover, she'd be completely turned on right now, but her head protests and her stomach churns, and she takes a deep breath before asking, "What exactly happened last night?"

"Give me half an hour and some coffee, and I'll see if I can figure it out." His voice is dry, but his face is subtly troubled, as if he expects her to freak out and kick him out of bed.

"Guess we don't need to run DNA tests and sweep the bed with UV lights, huh?" Gibbs shakes his head, then rubs his temple, as if his hangover is as bad as hers. She takes the opportunity to ask the question, though. "Regrets?"

"I don't remember much," is all he says, and Abby looks around for her clothing to conceal the stab of hurt his words bring.

"Me either." Giving up on locating her panties - they're probably still in the back of the taxi - she gets out of bed and crosses to her underwear drawer buck-naked. It's not like he didn't see it all last night, anyway. "Guess that means it won't be hard to forget. The rest of it, I mean."

She hears the sheets move, but doesn't realise he's out of bed until he slides his arms around her from behind. "No, you asked if I had any regrets. I _regret_ that I don't remember much of what happened."

"Oh," she whispers, leaning back against him, the clean panties dropping from her grip. "Me, too."

"Water now, maybe a little more sleep. Talk properly later." His lips brush her ear as he speaks, sending a thrill through her.

"Sounds good," she whispers.

"I wanna be completely there for round two," he murmurs, then releases her and heads off in search of water. Ten minutes later, they're curled up in the middle of the bed, limbs entwined, set to drowse away the rest of the morning.

Round two comes toward the middle of the afternoon, after a late, light breakfast, showers and a few minutes of conversation, mainly about rule twelve.

And round two is _completely _memorable.

_END._


	23. Eavesdropping, rated R

**Title**: Eavesdropping**  
Rating**: T**  
Spoilers**: Not really.**  
Summary**: Gibbs overhears an interesting phone call…

**Author's Note**: This has been sitting around in my snippets folder since 2007. Finally managed to do something with it… it's not great, but it's something!

* * *

"Welcome to NCIS. All calls may be recorded to ensure we give you the best possible service!" Abby announces, hitting the speakerphone button and pointing at the machine as if the person on the other side of the connection can see her.

I hesitate in the corridor outside the lab, Caf-Pow! in hand, not wanting to disturb her call. A tinny male voice comes over the speaker. "Uh… really?"

Abby drops into her chair, staring at the phone with a slight smile. "Hey, Ed. Not really. Which is just as well, since I remember telling you never to call me on this number."

"Hey, you called me on it, I'm callin' back," the guy says defensively. "What's up?"

"I was calling to see if you were free tonight," Abby answers, grabbing her CD player's remote and turning down the sound a little. "Cause I'm bored, and I'm horny, and you're first on my list."

I arch an eyebrow, intrigued despite myself. There's a flare of jealousy, too, but I push it down with practiced ease; I'm used to suppressing my feelings for Abby by now.

Ed chuckles. "That's a total lie."

"What is?" Abby asks, frowning.

"I'm not first on your list. Your boss kiss your finger again?" he asks, voice heavy with sarcasm.

I stare at the back of Abby's head, completely stunned. _He doesn't mean…?_

"No, the top of my head," she mumbles, dropping her head into her hands. "I dunno, Ed; I can't help it. He's way out of my league, unless I dye my hair red and start wearing stilettos or something. But you're first on my list of people who'll actually consider sleeping with me."

As my brain struggles to process the implications, Ed sighs. "I know, Abbs. It's just…"

Her head snaps up. "Whoa. Are you jealous? Cause I thought you had that blonde chick down at the office, and I'm really sorry, but I can't get into anything exclusive with you because–"

"I'm not him. Yeah, I know."

"I'm sorry. That's just the way it's gotta be." She sighs, and for a moment, they're both quiet. Then, a note of playfulness returning to her voice, she prompts. "Soooo…?"

"Rain check?" Ed says, and I roll my eyes at the sheer stupidity of the guy. A night with Abby is something I'd never turn down.

"Sure," she replies softly. "Later."

Hitting a button to end the call, she drops her head into her hands with a frustrated groan. "Damn it."

I take that moment to make my presence known, striding in and sliding the Caf-Pow! under her nose. "You okay?"

She jumps, turning her shock into irritation. "God, Gibbs! Stop _doing_ that!"

"Doing what?" I lean into her personal space on purpose, and she bites her lip, turning her back on me to snatch up the drink from the desk.

"You know what!"

I let it pass, leaning over her shoulder to ask, "What do you have for me, Abby?"

She falters for a second, then regains her focus enough to begin calling up screens on her computer. "A few things. Blood, fingerprints, fibres…"

"They can wait."

She turns and gazes up at me, confused. "Are you feeling okay?"

"Mmm-hmm. How about you? Your phone call didn't go the way you wanted."

Sick realisation hits her hard, and she shakes her head vigorously. "I don't know what you heard, but it totally wasn't what you think. I mean, I-"

I press my thumb against her lips, silencing her with a small smile. "You're first on my list."

She stares at me, afraid to believe. "Don't play with me, Gibbs."

I don't.

I kiss her instead. She smiles against my lips before returning it, a soft seduction that has me tightening my fingers around her waist before I realise it.

"Gonna ask me?" I say when I draw back.

"Are you free tonight?" she murmurs, seeming completely comfortable with the situation now she's gotten over her anxiety.

"If we finish up this case today, then yeah. Gonna give me what you got?"

Grinning, she asks, "What, now, or tonight?"

I turn her to face her computer, kissing the side of her neck. "Start with the forensics. We'll discuss the rest of what you got when I find the killer."

She punctuates her report with flirtatious glances, keeping admirably focused on her task. Science looks good on her, and when she's done I give her a lingering kiss as thanks. "Good job, Abbs."

"Go catch him so we can go have fun." She nudges me away with a wink, and I head for the door with renewed purpose.

A Wilder quote came up in a case we worked recently, and it comes to mind as I take the elevator up to the squad room. _There's nothing like eavesdropping to show you that the world outside your head is different from the world inside your head._

Guy had a point.

_END._


	24. GabbCollab Repost, Cat Got Your Tongue?

**Title**: Cat Got Your Tongue?**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Spoilers**: _One Shot, One Kill_ – season one.**  
Summary**: Abby has never seen Gibbs in uniform before. It kinda blows her mind.

**Author's Note**: Another GabbCollab repost - see the GabbCollab author account for details of the Gabby Collaboration Project. :)

* * *

Abby has never seen Gibbs in uniform before. It kinda blows her mind.

He comes down to the lab to return the surveillance equipment to her, leaving it in a tangle of wires on her workbench. She hears the sound of it all being put down, and turns to glare at the mess. "Giiibbs! You couldn't have untangled-"

Her words falter as she looks from the table to the man. The man who's still wearing his undercover recruiter uniform. Which Abby never got to see before the operation went down.

Wow, he looks good.

Really good, actually.

She's not sure if it's the ironed-to-perfection shirt or those tight pants, or the way that he's habitually standing straighter than usual. Maybe it's all of the above. Whatever it is, it sets her blood tingling through her body, and-

"Cat got your tongue?" Gibbs seems amused by her sudden silence. Oh, god, he knows exactly where her mind is.

She sticks her tongue out at him in response, and he steps closer to her. Too close for it to be platonic, and her heart is pounding, and the expression on his face is just too intense for her to bear.

"Wanna do that again?" It's a challenge, issued in a voice she's never heard him use before – quiet, rough and unbelievably sexy.

She doesn't stop to analyse what's going on – that can come later. She flicks out her tongue again, just for a moment, and oh, god…

His lips are on hers, his tongue chasing hers back into her mouth, and she's clinging to him, kissing him back with everything she has. His arms slip around her waist, his palms against the small of her back, dragging her closer. She runs her hand through his Marine-short silver hair, and he kisses down her throat, then around to the spiderweb tattoo on the side of her neck.

"Gibbs," she whispers, needing to halt this crazy moment before she loses her mind completely and tries to rip that uniform right off him.

He draws back, his breath heavy; the lust they both feel is plain on his face. "Is it the uniform, or is it me?"

She forgot he was wearing the uniform the moment he kissed her, and she rolls her eyes at the question. "What, you think I just go around kissing any Marine in uniform? I'm not that easy, Gibbs."

He gives her a wry smile, shrugging. "Uniforms do strange things to women. Had to be sure."

"If it helps, I'm thinking of ways to get you _out_ of the uniform right now." She shakes her head, amazed that he'd doubt that she's drawn to him. "I've wanted to do that for over _two years_. Okay, so the uniform fetish helped, but…"

"First time I could be sure you were interested. Didn't wanna miss my chance."

Abby grins. "Oh, you didn't."

"Gonna be stuck untangling wires for a while, or are you ready to get out of here?" He looks down at the mess he left on her desk.

She should tidy stuff away before she goes home for the night. She should. And any other day, she would. But with Gunnery Sergeant Gibbs standing in front of her?

"Your place or mine, Gunny?" she asks, looking up at him through her lashes.

"Mine's closer." He turns and heads for the door. "Meet you in the parking lot in ten minutes."

"Aye aye, sir!" She watches him leave – wow, he looks good in those pants – and then sets about shutting down her lab.

All work and no play makes Abby a dull scientist, after all.

_END._


	25. Permanent

**Title**: Permanent**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Spoilers**: The Ari arc, seasons 1-3, and _Sharif Returns_, season 4.**  
Summary**: Abby decides on a tattoo design.

**Author's Note**: Thanks to Jennie for the prompt 'bat'.

* * *

"I've decided," Abby tells Gibbs, the moment he walks in.

"Decided what?"

"My new tattoo. I'm gonna get a bat silhouette. For Kate." She holds up the sketch their fallen friend once drew of her – a bat's wings attached to a human head and torso.

Gibbs nods slowly, squeezing her shoulder. "It's a good idea."

Abby leans against him, taking comfort from the gesture. "Some days I'm scared I'm forgetting her."

"Hence the tattoo?" he asks.

"It's permanent. And I was there when Kate got hers." A pause, and she asks, "How do you remember her?"

Gibbs taps his shoulder, the location of one of his bullet wound scars. "Ari shot me here. Whenever I see it, there she is."

"Permanent," Abby murmurs, nodding. "Can I see?"

For a few seconds, he doesn't know how to respond. "Can't pull the shirt down far enough, Abbs."

Abby bites her lip, nods, then turns away. "Okay."

His gut tells him that if he drops the subject, there'll be a barrier between them that wasn't there before. Before she can step out of reach, he puts a hand on her arm, halting her. "Wait."

Her expression is sad, hopeful… but more than that. She's caught him when his defences are down, and his immunity to her unique charms is low. Not that she's trying to seduce him; she's just provocative by nature. It's one of the things he tries hard not to notice, and today he's failing.

With a tiny smile of inevitability, he gives in and hands her his coffee. "Gonna make the security guys watch this?"

Abby puts his coffee down by her keyboard, enters a few commands into her computer and then turns back to him. "All lab cameras disabled." Reaching for her remote control, she presses a button, and he hears a door close behind him. "Door locked."

While she watches, he shrugs out of his suit jacket, pulls off his polo shirt and the clean white tee beneath it. Her lips curve in an appreciative smile, which falters into a wince when she sees how many war-wounds – and agent-wounds – he has. "Oh, Gibbs…"

He shrugs. "Line of duty." Pointing to the healed bullet hole above and to the left of his heart, he tells her, "That's my reminder."

Abby reaches out, then stops herself. "Do you mind if-"

"Go ahead," he interrupts her, and she raises an eyebrow at the swiftness of his response.

Her fingers gently brush over the rounded, slightly indented scar, her touch cool against his heated skin. "She was a great profiler, too," she admits, her eyes on his chest rather than his face. "She knew, right off, that I felt more for you than I was letting on."

Gibbs takes a deep breath, then lets it out slowly, allowing the silence to speak for itself. After a few seconds, she lets her hand drop, though she remains within his reach. "I made her promise not to say anything to you, even though she said you felt the sa-"

He slips a hand to the back of her neck and kisses her, and she lays a palm against his chest as she responds hesitantly. He lets her gain confidence before pulling away, his pulse beating triple-time and his imagination in overdrive. "Think we need to continue this with the shirt on, Abbs."

She leans against her workbench and watches him dress again, waiting until his suit jacket is back on to reactivate the security cameras. "Just so things don't get out of hand."

It's a good call. Everything about her tempts him: her eyes, her lips, her voice. "Decided where you're gonna put the tattoo, yet?"

She sidesteps, keeping his body between her and the outer lab's camera, and pulls up her shirt far enough to expose her midriff. Brushing a finger over the skin just above her navel, she says, "I was thinking here."

If the security cameras were still disabled, he'd give in to the urge to drop to his knees and leave a trail of teasing kisses over the area. But they're not, and he lets his gaze travel slowly over the smooth skin instead, then up at her face. "Good choice."

Abby laughs softly. "Maybe not, since you obviously have other plans for that part of me. Maybe I'll get it here." She lays her fingers over the spot on her left shoulder that corresponds with the gunshot wound on his.

"Let's talk about it after work." If he doesn't get out of here soon, the security guys will get a decidedly X-rated show next time they go through the lab's footage.

"Wanna know what I found under the victim's fingernails?" Abby asks innocently, as he steps back.

"Email it up to McGee," Gibbs tells her, and retreats to the neutral ground of the hallway before his willpower gives out.

_END._


	26. Clean Up

**Title**: Clean Up**  
Rating**: PG-13**  
Spoilers**: Season five boat-related stuff.**  
Summary**: Gibbs paints his boat.

**Author's Note**: Thanks to Liza_Doolittle on Twitter for the prompt 'paint'.

* * *

"You have paint on your neck."

Gibbs shrugs and continues painting the name 'Kelly' on the side of his boat. "Had worse things on it."

Abby sets her book down and reaches for the turpentine and a clean rag. "Yeah, but now I get an excuse to clean you up."

He sets down his brush as she approaches. "That so?"

"Yup." Abby tilts his head to one side and rubs at the streak of black paint with the turpentine-soaked rag. A second later, she throws the cloth back toward the workbench. "There."

"Enjoy yourself?" he asks, lips curving up just a little.

"Not as much as I will later on, when I drag you to the shower to wash off the turpentine." Abby retreats back to her seat, picking up her book again and looking mischievously over the top of it at him.

Gibbs resumes his painting, intrigued by the offer. "Yeah? How much later are we talking, Abbs?"

"That's between you and your boat, Special Agent Gibbs." She crosses her legs, leans back in her chair and exaggerates her focus on her book.

Shaking his head, he puts the finishing touches to the letter 'E', but the images she's painted in his mind won't leave him. _Screw it._

He puts the lid back on his can of paint, then pulls the book from Abby's hands. She looks up at him with affected confusion, and he pulls her to her feet and into his arms, startling a giggle from her. "Gibbs!"

"What do you got for me?" He follows the question with a light kiss of her lips.

Abby takes his hand and pulls him toward the stairs. "Come right this way…"

_END_.


	27. From Polaroid to Digital

**Title**: From Polaroid to Digital**  
Rating**: G**  
Spoilers**: None**  
Summary**: Abby captures the moment.

**Author's Note**: Sorry for the lack of real updates at the moment. Just got my first erotica story published, and have been hard at work promoting it/squeeing. Those of you who are on my LiveJournal or Twitter, I'm sorry I just mentioned it again. :p Anyway. This prompt (posterity) was given to me by Trialia.

* * *

"Yay!"

A flashbulb almost blinds Gibbs as he walks into the lab, and he flings a hand up to ward his eyes, scowling. "Abby… what was that for?"

Abby examines the digital image on the camera, nodding satisfaction. "Perfect."

Gibbs waits, blinking the spots from his eyes, and after setting down the camera she gets to the point.

"It's been ten years since the day I met you! To the day. Almost to the hour, but you're late."

He can't help but smile a little, making the connection. "You took a picture of me then, too."

"You remember! I'm actually getting a little misty-eyed, here." Abby holds out a slightly crumpled Polaroid toward him. Underneath the picture, 'Agent Gibbs' is printed in Abby's precise handwriting. "Only then it was so I could put it with all the other agents' pictures, so I'd be able to match faces to names. This one's just for posterity."

Gibbs takes the picture and examines it. Ten years ago he had less grey hair, a severe military haircut and an impatient expression.

"A lot changes in ten years," is all he says, handing the photograph back.

"No kidding," Abby tells him, picking up the digital camera again and stepping in close so he can see the display. She holds the Polaroid beside the digital image for comparison.

He looks older, but in the split-second before she took the photograph, his lips had been curved ever so slightly: the beginnings of a smile. Abby has that effect on him, especially when they don't have an urgent case to work on. _Ten years?_ _Has it really been that long?_

"Hmm." He gives her an impulsive kiss on the cheek, enjoying the way her expression brightens. "Happy ten-year anniversary, Abbs."

"Feel like celebrating later?" she asks, and he detects just a slight hint of apprehension beneath the words, as if she thinks he'll turn her down.

"On one condition," he says.

She nods, waiting.

"Leave the camera here."

"Awww…" She's reluctant to agree, but she knows which battles she can win. "Okay. But you owe me dessert."

Maybe their ten-year anniversary is a good day to stop living a lie. "You'll get it."

He's pretty sure she'll enjoy the dessert he has in mind.

_END._


	28. Putting Her Foot Down

**Title**: Putting Her Foot Down**  
Rating**: PG-1  
**Spoilers**: None**  
Summary**: Abby proposes an addition to Gibbs' basement.

**Author's Note**: Thank you to Jetgirl7 on Twitter for the prompt 'chair'. And for those who asked for the link to the erotica ebook I got published, there's a link on my profile. :)

* * *

"Gibbs?"

He looks up from sanding his boat, over to where Abby is leaning against his workbench. "Hmm?"

"I can't take it any more. There's only so much I can stand before I have to put my foot down."

The seriousness in her voice is sufficient to make him set down the sandpaper and approach her. "What's up?"

She sighs. "You need a chair down here, Gibbs. A cosy one. So that you can work on your boat and I can sit and objectify you in comfort."

He grins, relieved that they're not going to fight. "Objectify me, huh?"

Abby slips her arms around his neck, and he pulls her close. "Yeah," she says, a mischievous light in her eyes. "A big comfy armchair, so that when I've objectified you enough I can pull you over to it and sit in your lap, and you can do bad things to me."

"Then I guess we're gonna have to go shopping," he tells her, before leaning in to meet her kiss.

_END._


	29. Sex Dice, rated R

**Title**: Sex Dice**  
Rating**: R**  
Spoilers**: None**  
Summary**: Abby gives an unconventional answer to Gibbs' usual question of 'What do you got, Abbs?'

**Author's Note**: Thank you to the eternally smutty Helen for the prompt 'lick'. ;) Also, thank you for those of you who have been going over and looking at my erotica website – my author profile on here is one of my main sources of referring traffic! *grin*

* * *

"What do you got, Abbs?"

She smiles as she hears the familiar line. She's had her response all worked out for the past half-hour. "Sex dice."

That gets his attention. "_What_ dice?"

"You heard me right." Abby holds up a clear evidence bag containing the oversized, pink plastic dice. "You never played with these?"

Gibbs shoots her a wryly amused look, waiting for her to continue. Of course, he'd never actually tell her if he had.

She reaches a gloved hand into the bag and pulls out the dice. "You throw one, and it gives you an activity…" She throws the correct die, and leans over to read the result. "In this case, 'lick'…"

It's a miracle he's let her babble on for so long, and she runs with it for as long as he'll let her. "And then you throw the other one to get a body part." She does. "Nipples. Nice!"

Abby busies herself replacing the dice, not daring to look up at him, and once they're safely sealed away she begins her report. Gibbs listens without a word – _why_ can't she make herself look over at him? – until she finishes. "And I'll have more for you in an hour."

He leans in close, and she tilts her cheek toward the brief kiss she expects, holding her breath. When his lips brush her cheekbone, they're slightly parted, and she feels the faintest brush of his tongue across her skin.

"How about we start a little slower and then work up to what's on those dice?" he murmurs, his lips so close to her ear that his voice sends thrills throughout her entire body.

Abby turns, desperate to kiss him, but he's already striding toward the door as if she's imagined the whole thing. "Gibbs!"

He doesn't look back, but his voice calls back to her. "Time and a place, Abbs."

"Don't think they make dice for that," she grumbles, turning back to her computer.

Later she finds out that the time is that evening, and the place is her apartment. No dice required.

_END._


	30. Bribery with Motive

**Title**: Bribery with Motive**  
Rating**: G**  
Spoilers**: None. Pre-series.**  
Summary**: When Gibbs brings double the Caf-Pow! down to the lab, Abby suspects his motives.

**Author's Note**: Written for the prompt 'butter' on the Gabby forum.

* * *

"Two?" Abby eyes the twin Caf-Pow!s as Gibbs sets them down on her workbench. "Okay, you're buttering me up for something. What do you want me to do?"

"What, a guy can't just show he cares?"

"You're not a tokens-of-affection kinda guy, Gibbs. You have a motive for everything." At least, that's what she makes herself believe. She's been working for the guy for just under a year, and if she interpreted the caffeinated bribes he brings her every couple of days as tokens of affection, she'd have to fall in love with him.

Have to? That's a joke. She's already most of the way there.

He blinks at her assessment of him, and for a moment she could swear she sees hurt in his expression. Before she can retract her statement, he asks, "What do you got?"

A little out of her comfort zone, Abby gives him a brief rundown of the facts - and a couple of conjectures for good measure, but adding that she can't prove anything unless he gives her more evidence. He listens without interrupting, but only because she manages to stay on topic the whole time. She doesn't feel comfortable enough to deviate into chatter, and when she's done, he steps away with a nod. "Thanks, Abby."

"Hey," she calls, as he reaches the door. He pauses, and she says, "Why two Caf-Pow!s, then?"

Gibbs shrugs. "It's your birthday."

She hasn't mentioned it to anyone, because she knows she'll be too busy working to celebrate; she needs the money the overtime brings her. So how did he...? "How-?"

"Looked in your file."

"Oh," she says blankly, and then, as she realises what other details are in her file, "_Oh..._ You didn't happen to see anything else in that file, did you?"

"Relax. It's only an indecent exposure charge." He looks amused. "You're not the little girl I thought you were, Abby."

He turns and walks away, leaving her to interpret that in her own way. It takes her a few more days to get up the courage to ask him out, but after that, it takes him only one evening to wear down the rest of her reservations.

_END._


	31. GabbCollab repost, Worth Three McGees

**Title**: Worth Three McGees**  
Rating**: T**  
Spoilers**: _See No Evil_, season 2**  
Summary**: Gibbs and Abby are both affected by the Watson case, in different ways.

**Author's Note**: This is a repost from the Gabby Collaboration Project (see author profile GabbCollab for details).

* * *

Sandy Watson was an amazing kid. Her knowledge of sound frequencies had blown Abby's mind – she knew, as the hearing child of deaf parents, that where one sense failed others made up for the deficit, but even so…

She didn't understand how the girl's father had put her life – and her hearing – on the line, all for the sake of money. She just didn't get it.

After the case was over, she skipped out of work early and headed to the nearest bar, staring up at the wall of NCIS agents killed in the line of duty for a moment before approaching the bartender. "Hey, Pacci. We still miss you."

The photograph didn't respond, of course. But Abby didn't mind. She had faith that Chris Pacci, killed a few months back, knew she was thinking about him.

As she ordered a vodka Red Bull at the bar, her thoughts turned back to Sandy. Thank god she'd made it through okay. The image of the hired madman, as he'd held a screwdriver to the sobbing blind girl's ears, sent shivers down Abby's spine every time she thought about it.

_Total silence and darkness, forever._

Abby feared losing her senses more than anything. One was bad enough, but two? Who would _do that_ to a little kid?

By the time Gibbs walked into the bar, she was drunk.

He obviously hadn't expected to see her there, and she hadn't expected him to walk in, either. She'd resolved never to get drunk around him, in case something inappropriate – meaning, contradictory to his rule number twelve – slipped out. Even so, she couldn't bring herself to get up, make her excuses and leave.

"Hey, Gibbs. Buy you a drink?"

There were reservations in his expression, too, but he accepted with a nod, sliding into the seat beside her as she ordered a bourbon, straight up. What else would Gibbs be drinking, after all?

"You okay, Abbs?"

She shrugged. "Sure. Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're wasted."

She raised her glass in an ironic toast. "To your excellent powers of observation. Wanna join me?"

He smiled a little, though his heart wasn't in it, and clinked his glass against hers. "What's eating you?"

"I don't get how a father could put his amazing wife and kid through total hell, just for cash. I mean, she could have died. Or worse, lost her hearing. She's so talented, but he goes and does that. Why?"

Gibbs shook his head, taking a gulp of his own drink. "Don't know."

She was drunk, but not drunk enough not to notice the pain in his eyes. "What's eating _you_?"

"Same thing."

She didn't ask why; just leaned her head against his shoulder. He put his arm around her, his breath escaping in a sigh, and together, they finished their drinks in silence.

* * *

Gibbs ordered the next round, and they moved from their bar stools to a booth in the corner. Abby changed the subject, beginning to talk about McGee's instatement to his team, and how 'cool' it would be to have him around.

"Figured you could use the extra help as well as I could," he teased her gently, and she gasped indignation, her eyes flashing.

"Gibbs! Just because I couldn't hack the damn Pentagon on my own, that doesn't mean I'm incompetent when it comes to computer forensics! I mean, okay, McGee's really smart and he went to MIT and he's better trained at that stuff than I am, and has more experience, but-"

Gibbs didn't want to hear it. Bad enough that he'd witnessed their flirtation earlier on – he was more than aware that by hiring McGee as a field agent, he was giving him more access to Abby.

_Great. One minute you're mourning your dead wife and daughter, and the next you're getting jealous that Abby has feelings for McGee._

He knew it was illogical, but that didn't mean he could control it. Especially not with alcohol around. "Abby."

She stopped mid-sentence, looking at him expectantly. "What?"

"You're worth three McGees to me."

She visibly brightened, and leaned over the table to give him a hug. "Aww, Gibbs… the feeling is totally mutual."

Somehow, he doubted she'd still say that if she knew the truth. That her presence had distracted him from the ghosts of his past. That the memories of her face, her body, her voice, her smile were enough to get him hard when he was home alone at night.

There in the present moment, Abby went back to the bar to order more drinks, and he watched her pigtails – and hips – sway as she crossed the room. "Get a grip," he muttered to himself.

_Love to_, his mind responded instantly. _A grip on _her_._

By the end of drink number three, he knew he should get up and leave, for the sake of their professional relationship. He couldn't make himself move, however.

"Surprised you haven't asked about you and McGee and rule twelve yet," he said, against his better judgment. "Now that he's working from the Navy Yard, I mean."

He didn't even know how many drinks Abby had had, but her inebriation seemed to have plateaued. She gave him a blank look.

"Why would I? We haven't been together for months."

That was something he hadn't known, and despite himself, he felt his heart lighten. "Hmm. Coulda fooled me."

"Oh, please," Abby said, rolling her eyes. "He wanted to get all committed, and he's a great guy, but I can't get into a serious relationship when my heart belongs to…"

She trailed off, looking relieved that she'd managed to stop herself, and then finished softly, "Someone else."

"Lucky guy," Gibbs said, and meant it. Anyone who managed to win Abby's heart would be. And yeah, he was jealous, but what could he do?

Abby fidgeted, her eyes on the table top. "He doesn't think so."

_Then he's an idiot._ Gibbs washed down the words with more bourbon. "He say that to you?"

She shrugged, still not meeting his eyes. "He doesn't know. But I'm not his type."

The words were out of his mouth before he could stop them. "Abby, you're smart, you're beautiful and you're a good person. You couldn't _not_ be his type."

She did look at him, then, seeming startled at the compliments he shouldn't have paid her. Then her lips curved in a wry smile. "For starters, I have the wrong hair colour."

The way she was looking at him – so vulnerable beneath the bravado, as if he held the power to shatter her very existence – made his instincts hum with realisation. The truth didn't dawn on him instantly, though, and he was too slow.

She jumped up from the table, gathering her things. "I think I've had a little too much to drink. I better get home. See you tomorrow, Gibbs."

By the time he got to his feet, she was out of reach, so he pursued her toward the door, catching her wrist and spinning her to face him. Her eyes shone with unshed tears, and his need to reassure her outmatched everything else. Cupping her face in his hand, he leaned in and kissed her gently.

Abby's eyes widened, then fluttered closed, and she returned his kiss tentatively, her shoulder tense under his palm, as if she expected him to reconsider at any moment. Wanting nothing more than to chase away her doubts, he deepened the kiss, slipping an arm around her waist and pulling her closer.

She melted against him, relaxing into the embrace, and her tongue brushed his for the first time, sending a jolt of desire through him. He broke off before his inebriated brain decided to take things further right there, right then, dimly aware of the smattering of applause and catcalls from some of the bar's patrons.

They weren't worth his time and attention, though. All his awareness was centred upon the promise in Abby's smile, and he returned it, tugging one of her pigtails gently. "Feel better now?"

"I'll feel better when we go somewhere private," she said, her voice low and seductive.

The part of his brain that fancied itself a gentleman protested. "Abbs, we're way too drunk for that now."

"You think you'll regret it when we sober up?" Her confidence was high, but still, there was a fragility to her question.

He shook his head. "Not a chance. But-"

Abby held up a hand to silence him. "Then I'm calling us a cab. That okay with you?"

It was more than just 'okay'. The gentleman within him retreated, overpowered by the lustful and longing and altogether drunk parts of his mind. He nodded, and Abby grinned, pulling her cell phone from her pocket. "Good. Discussion over."

How could he argue with that?

_END._


End file.
